


I Keep It Caged (But I Can't Control It)

by biscuitlevitation



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: ...sorta, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, I'M JUST AS CONFUSED AS YOU ARE I SWEAR, Love Triangles, M/M, Multiple Personalities, kinda both simultaneously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-02-13 01:19:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2131662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biscuitlevitation/pseuds/biscuitlevitation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier are two separate entities, and both of them eventually fall in love with Steve Rogers.</p><p>--</p><p>His life is far too weird to question something like his best friend having a timeshare on his own body with a murderous, unnaturally strong alter-ego – and this is starting to sound real familiar all of the sudden. Anyway, it makes it a little easier to compartmentalize everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

After saying goodbye to Nick and Nat, Sam and Steve part ways with an agreement to meet up that evening and start tracking Bucky down. Steve returns to his D.C. apartment for the first time since this clusterfuck started. He hesitates in front of Sharon's – _Agent 13's_ door for a long moment, and then strides past and unlocks his own without a second glance.

Steve shucks off his jacket with a worn sigh and flops down on the couch. A refreshingly cool breeze plays with strands of his hair, and his lips quirk ever so slightly.

Wait. Why is his window open?

He's up in an instant, quickly and silently searching for signs of intrusion. He really needs a better security system.

Kitchen is clear, bathroom is clear, closet is clear, bedroom is... not clear.

Considering who's in it, Steve's more than fine with that.

Bucky lies on his side, facing the door. His right hand is curled around the hilt of a knife, which protrudes from the waistband of a pair of ill-fitting jeans. It's exactly how he used to fall asleep in their shared tent on missions, back during the war. It is not the way Natasha falls asleep – sitting upright, close to one of the exits, facing all the others, eyes wide open.

Without entering the room, Steve says, very quietly, “Bucky?”

Bucky's eyes snap open, and he sits upright. This, too, is familiar. He blinks once, then says, “Jesus, Steve, this place is aces. You been holding out on me?”

Steve grins, steadily wider until he feels like his face is splitting in half. He moves inside to offer Bucky his hand, and Bucky takes it, only to yank Steve into a tight hug. Steve tenses, half-expecting an attack, but then Bucky throws his knife aside and buries his face in Steve's shoulder. He shakes with one repressed sob, and Steve's arms come up instantly to hold him.

“Buck?”

“'M sorry,” Bucky mumbles into Steve's throat, his stubble scratching at his soft skin. “God, Steve, I'm so fucking sorry.”

“No, Bucky, no,” Steve says firmly. “'S not your fault. You were – you couldn't remember me, and – you were Pierce's goddamned slave, he brainwashed you.”

“I shoulda stopped him, Stevie, he hurt you, nearly _killed_ you.”

“But then _you_ saved me. Pulled me right out of the Potomac, 'member?” Steve murmurs, fingers coming up to tangle in Bucky's hair. 

“I shoulda stopped him sooner,” Bucky says miserably, pulling slowly away like it's painful. Steve lets him go, afraid of spooking him.

“Buck, there's no way you could've stopped Pierce, let alone on your own,” Steve says.

“I ain't talkin' about Pierce, 'm talkin' about _him._ ” 

Something a lot like dread pools in Steve's stomach. “Who?”

“The Winter Soldier.”

–

Once Steve calms his best friend down enough to start making sense, the story's still pretty disjointed, seeing as Bucky had been frozen more often than not. Apparently, HYDRA hadn't taken Bucky's memories – they just put someone new inside his head.

“That's why they kept freezing 'im, an' brainwashing 'im – too long outside the icebox an' I'd start bleeding through,” Bucky explains, huddled over a mug of coffee.

“How'd you get out?” Steve asks. His life is far too weird to question something like his best friend having a timeshare on his own body with a murderous, unnaturally strong alter-ego – and this is starting to sound real familiar all of the sudden. Anyway, it makes it a little easier to compartmentalize everything.

The metal arm is pretty cool, too.

Bucky notices him staring, and he smiles wanly. “Yeah, my arm was pretty fucked up, after the train, so they gave him a new one.”

Steve impulsively reaches out and took the metal hand in his own. “'S yours now, ain't it? So that makes it pretty damn impressive.”

Bucky stares at where their fingers are linked, and then looks up, his eyes soft and warm. Their gazes interlock and melt into one another. Steve feels curiously short of breath, as he sometimes used to around Bucky in the past, but he'd always attributed it to his asthma. Or his pneumonia. Or the flu. 

A car backfires on the street below. Steve jumps a little, and doesn't notice the change in Bucky's features until he's flat on his back, and the person crouching over him pulling a blade out of his boot is very clearly Not Bucky.


	2. Chapter 2

“Bucky?” Steve asks, feeling more than knowing that Bucky isn't home right now.

The man with Bucky's face doesn't answer, eyes fixed on Steve's jugular as he slices down. Steve seizes his wrist – thankfully the flesh-and-blood one – and struggles to get out from under him without hurting him. The Winter Soldier has no such qualms, and bites down on his ear.

Steve yells, feeling the cartilage tear, and sends a swift kick to his groin. The Soldier doesn't make a sound, just rolls off, his face twisted in pain. Steve leaps to his feet and retreats to the other side of the counter, hallway extending on either side of him. The Winter Soldier rises a moment later and seizes a paring knife, hurling it at him with deadly force and accuracy. Steve dodges and backs down the hallway. The Soldier vaults over the counter and advances on him.

“Bucky,” Steve pleads, heading toward his bedroom, where he left his shield alongside Bucky's knife. “Buck, snap out of it. I don't wanna hurt you, and you don't want to hurt me.”

“I am not Bucky,” the Soldier says, his voice one and the same with Bucky's and yet absolutely nothing like it. “And want has nothing to do with it. I have my orders.”

“HYDRA is _gone_ ,” Steve snaps, angry and scared for his friend. “You have no orders anymore.”

“Cut off one head, a thousand more will rise to take its place,” the Soldier intones, and hearing such hated words from such a beloved face makes something inside of him snap. He ducks inside his room, his adversary pursuing, and quickly puts his shield to use.

As they trade blows, Steve grits out, “Bucky – you jerk – you're stronger – than him – so _snap out of it_!” The last words come out in a roar, and he body slams the Winter Soldier and they both hurtle right through his window.

They land several floors down in a shower of wood and broken glass, something that Steve has been doing far too often as of late. Steve scrambles upright, but the Soldier lies still, apparently dazed, so he grabs a wickedly sharp shard of glass and holds it to his throat, straddling him.

“St-Steve?” the Winter Soldier – no, it's Bucky again – coughs, blinking up at him bewilderedly.

Steve sighs and feels his whole body slump. He throws the glass over his shoulder and slumps over the prone form of his best friend, still gripping the front of his ratty T-shirt. Bucky awkwardly props himself up on his elbows, allowing Steve to thump his head on his broad chest.

“Shit,” Bucky groans. “He tried to hurt you again, didn't he.”

“More like hurt my apartment again,” Steve grumbles.

“I hate to interrupt your sulking, but I think someone called the cops,” Bucky says, nudging gently at his shoulder. Steve bites back a hiss; crashing through plexiglass _stings._

“Shit,” Steve whines, allowing himself a moment of petulance as he rolls off Bucky. Bucky gets up stiffly, and then pointedly offers him his left hand. Steve takes it, and Bucky hauls him up easily. His show of trust relaxes the tight lines around Bucky's eyes and mouth.

“C'mon, let's go back upstairs,” Steve says, jerking his head back toward the building they both just fell out of. Bucky follows without question.

Neither one of them remembers to release the other's hand.

–

When the police arrive, Steve and Bucky are sitting in the kitchen again, each eating a sandwich the size of their head. Both officers are starstruck, despite (or perhaps especially) after DC's stint as a war zone. They're willing to believe almost anything Captain America tells them.

(“A spider?”

“Yup. Huge. Scared us half to death.” 

Bucky, his face half-hidden by his hood, nods solemnly.

“So you... jumped through the window. To escape the spider.”

“Wouldn't you?”)

After the police leave, they both agree that it would be safer for everyone if Bucky didn't go out into public much until the whole debacle with SHIELD died down some.

“But what about _you_ , Steve? Who's gonna keep you safe?” Bucky asks, frustrated.

“I'm a big boy, Bucky, I can handle myself,” Steve says. Bucky opens his mouth to reply, but then Steve takes his shoulders and puts their foreheads together, something that they used to do as children when sharing secrets. “I trust you, Buck. _You'll_ keep me safe.”

Bucky, ever his protector, softens at this declaration. His hand raises almost of its own accord and gently touches Steve's cheek.

“Maybe you _shouldn't_ trust me. Maybe I shouldn't stay around – ”

“Shut up,” Steve cuts in, quiet but vehement. “Even if it was you trying to kill me, I'd still want to be with you. You mean more to me than anybody else in this world, Buck, and I won't lose you again.”

Bucky lets out a shaky breath. “Y'can't just say stuff like that, Steve. Not to me.”

Steve tilts his head a little, confused. “Why not?”

“Because I – ”

The doorbell rings, cutting off whatever Bucky was about to say. Steve stands up with a low curse.

“Who the hell is that?” Bucky asks crossly.

“It's Sam. I told him to come by later so that we could start looking for you.” Steve grins at his friend, sudden elation bubbling up in his chest. “No need for that anymore, huh?”

Steve heads down the hallway and opens the door. Sam smiles back at him cheerfully.

“Hey, man, you ready to hunt down an amnesiac super assassin?” Sam asks, brushing past him without waiting for a response. “I'm thinking he headed for New York – ” He stops short in the kitchen doorway.

“Sam?” Steve calls, coming up behind him.

“...He's in your kitchen. Eating a sandwich.”

“Hi!” Bucky says through a bite of lettuce and tomato, waving.

“Yeah, about that...” Steve begins.

“Did you – did you _make him_ that sandwich?” Sam asks, sounding ridiculously betrayed, “I recognize that ridiculous amount of mustard. I had to clean that mustard off my plates when you were staying at my house. Why is the Winter Soldier eating your food, in your kitchen, and waving at me?”

“Jus' ta clarify,” Bucky says, voice muffled. He swallows, and then continues, “I ain't the Winter Soldier. I'm Bucky Barnes. Who're you?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, god, I'm sorry this took so long!
> 
> Brief mention of domestic abuse in this chapter.

“So lemme get this straight,” Sam says, voice muffled by his hands, “you have an alternate personality that wants to murder Steve, and you're _living with him_?”

They're all seated at Steve's kitchen table, which is smaller than Steve realized. Bucky's legs and feet keep knocking against his.

“I'm getting better at fighting him off,” Bucky mutters, but he's taking Sam's (admittedly true) words to heart.

“Sam, it's fine, I can take him,” Steve intervenes, with a not-so-subtle glare paired with meaningful eyebrow twitches. The last thing he wants is Bucky disappearing on him again.

“Yeah, 'cause ending up hospitalized was a victory,” Sam snaps. “You can't go all out on him cause you'll be worried about hurting your buddy, but the Winter Soldier is _not_ gonna return the favor.”

“He came out once already, and he barely bruised me,” Steve says.

“He _what_?” Sam shouts. Bucky winces.

“He's right, Steve. It ain't safe for you,” he says.

“Oh, bull _shit_ ,” Steve says, springing to his feet. “I ain't a scrawny asthmatic no more, Bucky! I ain't someone you needa protect!”

“Well, maybe I _wanna_ protect you!” Bucky shouts, rising and leaning into his space. “That's what I'm good at! That's – that's who I am, an' that's who I like being!”

They stare at each other, faces like open books, with Sam hunched down in his chair to avoid interrupting. The air between them seems curiously charged once again.

“O-kay,” Sam says, “This is getting a little weird for me, guys, so let's make a deal: you can stay here as long as I check in every day and _you_ \--" he points at Steve " -- put me on speed dial. Sound good? Great. Bye!”

He beats a hasty retreat, ignoring Steve's query about where he was going. The door slams shut behind him, and Steve and Bucky blink after it for a moment before turning back towards each other.

“Hell was that about?”

“Fuck if I know. Sam's weird.”

Then that derails into a conversation about how odd 21st century mannerisms are, and that turns into bickering about who's better at acting like they're from this time period, and then they're wrestling on the floor and calling each other “old fart” and “grandpa.”

Steve gets pinned underneath Bucky when the jerk cheats and starts tickling. “Uncle,” he gasps, laughing and squirming.

“Gotta say, pal, your chances of survival are not lookin' good,” Bucky teases, fingers seeking a particularly sensitive spot behind his knee. His smile is sadistic, paired with warm, soft eyes that do funny things to Steve's insides.

“Aw, c'mon, Buck,” Steve whines. “Please?”

Bucky's gaze sharpens, and his body tenses, but it isn't the same as when he becomes the Soldier. The Soldier's eyes are cold and piercing, but Bucky's eyes are molten.

His fingers have found his knee, but they aren't tickling so much as exploring, now. Steve feels himself flush and he starts to squirm again, for different reasons. This kind of situation is familiar ( _Not familiar enough_ , a little voice in his head whispers), and they seemed to have been increasing in length and frequency since they first moved in together. Having them back is both a dream come true and incredibly frustrating, in more ways than one.

 _Bucky likes ladies, he's just messing around,_ Steve tells himself, but his voice still comes out breathy when he says, “Bucky?”

Bucky freezes and then rolls off him, and smacks his head against the coffee table.

Steve is too busy laughing at him and then patching him up to linger on it.

Much.

–

They quickly settle back into their old dynamic, and it's like they had never been separated. Except for the screaming nightmares that they both shared. That was new. However, the bed sharing wasn't, even though each of them offered to sleep on the couch. Simply buying another bed never comes up.

Steve can even anticipate the Winter Soldier's appearances, by now. While he still tried to kill him regularly, his heart just didn't seem in it, and sometimes he'd just take off and Steve never saw him at all. Bucky always showed up a couple days later, unshaven and grumpy and unwilling to discuss it. He was still touchy about the fact that his alter ego was strong enough to regularly hijack his body and try to kill his best friend.

Steve thought that the Soldier might not know what to do with himself without somebody ordering him around. He almost pitied him. He always seemed slightly adrift whenever he emerged, his eyes listless even as he went through the motions of attempted assassination. Steve's working on making the fights quieter and cause slightly less collateral damage, so as not to disturb his poor neighbors or his long-suffering landlord, who's already tried to have two talks about domestic abuse with him.

And then the Soldier breaks his pattern.

He pads silently into the kitchen, Bucky's scruffy ponytail still holding back his hair. Steve doesn't see his face, busy flipping pancakes.

“'Bout time you were up, lazybones,” Steve says affectionately. “You want bacon or sausage?”

“Why did they want me to kill you?”

Steve whips around at the unmistakable voice of the Winter Soldier, spatula still in hand. His voice is flatter than Bucky's, harsher, with a hint of his Russian origins around the vowels. Steve feels slightly embarrassed in nothing his sweatpants and an apron, but the Soldier doesn't have much of a sense of humor, so no mockery is forthcoming.

“I was in the way, I guess,” Steve says cautiously, when he doesn't immediately try to kill him. He starts edging toward the kitchen table, where his shield is innocuously propped up against a chair. “HYDRA and I have never gotten along.”

The Soldier nods, taking this as an acceptable answer. Steve abruptly darts for his shield, and right after he grabs it he's being slammed up against the wall, the metal the only barrier between him and Bucky's – the Soldier's naked torso.

“Bucky – ” Steve begins.

“Don't call for him,” the Soldier snaps. “Stop trying to get rid of me.”

“Okay,” Steve says cautiously. Bucky would win out eventually. “What should I call you, then?”

The Winter Soldier pauses for a moment. “You are asking for a name.”

“Well, yeah. You're a person, aren't you? I can't just call you 'Winter Soldier,'” Steve says. “So just pick one out.”

“You are telling me to... name myself?” the Soldier asks. For the first time, there's a hint of uncertainty in his countenance.

“I'm not trying to make you do anything,” Steve says hastily, wary of setting him off. “I just thought you'd prefer one.”

He stares at Steve for a moment, and says, “Dmitri.” He releases him, finished with their conversation, and climbs out the nearest window.

“Huh,” Steve says to his empty apartment. Bucky's going to be pissed when he wakes up god knows where in Iron Man pajama bottoms and not much else.


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky reappears three days later, at four in the morning, and breaks in via the fire escape. Steve has him pinned with his hands around his throat before he knows what he's doing.

“Jesus, Steve, I was just gonna take a shower,” Bucky grumbles, though he makes no move to dislodge him. “I haven't changed in god knows how long.”

“You were wearing Iron Man pajama pants when I last saw you,” Steve informs him, settling on Bucky's torso, prepared to drift off on his bedroom floor. “'N you smell good, so he probably did all that for ya.”

“I smell good,” Bucky repeats, oddly hesitant.

“Like roses and starshine,” Steve teases, soft and tired. “But y'always have, even those coupla weeks on the streets, when you was 'tween jobs.”

“I 'us there too, y'know,” Bucky says, and he's quiet for a long moment. “You do, too. Smell good, I mean.”

Steve, already asleep, doesn't respond.

\--

Steve wakes up at six, an hour later than usual. He's in bed, and for a long moment he thinks that the cuddling heart-to-heart on was all a dream. But then he smells Bucky on the sheets, smoky and sweaty with a hint of metal, and he realizes that Bucky must have carried him.

“Oh, jeez,” he mumbles, feeling himself blush as he buries his head in his pillow. He feels like he's 5'4” again, but he's not and Bucky still carried him with all that extra muscle and that metal arm and why does that make his morning wood _worse?_

He spends a couple minutes thinking of Colonel Philips' bare ass, and then he's more than ready to greet the world. 

Bucky's in the kitchen burning breakfast, whistling a jazz number from the 30s. Steve is struck by a sudden swell of gratitude that Bucky's _alive_ and he's _here,_ because what are the odds? Steve sometimes thinks that he went insane after Bucky died, or maybe when he shipped off, because he definitely doesn't deserve this happiness.

He leans against the doorway and softly croons, in time with Bucky's whistling, “Funny, but when you're near me, I'm in the mood for love . . .”

Bucky turns to look at him, eyes tender and a smile playing on his lips. “Heaven is in your eyes . . .”

“Bright as the. . . something something.”

Bucky sighs exasperatedly. “HYDRA didn't even fuck with your head, and you still can't get it right.” His tone is light, but there's a slight bitterness to his words. The Soldier's reemergence must be getting to him.

“Not like there's much to fuck with up there,” Steve jokes, but he wraps an arm around his friend to take the sting out of his words.

“Punk,” Bucky grumbles, but his arms come up to tug him closer. Steve shivers as metal touches his bare skin, and it has little to do with its temperature.

The two of them eat breakfast and then have a quick race around the block, Bucky's hood pulled low over his face. It isn't strictly safe, but Bucky would go stir crazy if he only got out whenever the Soldier took over, and he has Steve with him. 

Bucky is unusually quiet after the run. Steve catches him staring at him rather than the television, which is playing a film called _Batman and Robin_ that Stark told him to watch when he asked where he got all his stupid ice puns. Steve is pretty sure that he was pulling his leg when he said that it was considered one of the greatest movies ever made.

“I can't watch this anymore,” Steve decides when Batman pulls out a bat credit card. He turns the damned thing off with minimal fumbling, and turns to Bucky, seated all the way on the other side of the couch instead of at his side like usual. “So what's wrong with you? You been weird all day.”

“I ain't been weird,” Bucky says, but his heart's not in it.

“Yes you have,” Steve says. “Now sing.”

Bucky flexes his hands and watches them move, as if cataloging the differences between them. “The last time he came out, he said something to you.” He glances up at his friend questioningly. “Why didn't he attack you? What did he say?”

“He wanted to know why he was told to kill me. He was curious, I think.” Steve debates asking Bucky for more information about his alter ego, as Bucky doesn't like being reminded of him and rarely volunteers information. “Can't you see what's going on when he comes out? Is it the same for him?”

“Bits and pieces. It's like dreaming, I guess, so I usually don't remember much unless it really matters to me,” Bucky says haltingly, grasping for words. “I got no idea what he sees, 'cause I can only feel him when he's aboutta take over.”

Steve mulls it over for a while. He isn't sure why he hadn't brought up the strange encounter himself. It seems almost like an invasion of privacy to tell Bucky about Dmitri naming himself, even though he is an unwelcome guest in his body. 

The silence drags on, and worry starts to crease Bucky's face. Steve just knows he's getting the wrong idea in that fool head of his. He flops into Bucky's lap lap and grins up at him, completely vulnerable to attack, and says, “Wanna watch somethin' else?”

The gratitude and naked affection in Bucky's eyes before he shoves him off the couch and pounces on him make Steve's chest ache.

–

Three weeks pass, and then Steve wakes up to an empty apartment. He worries about Bucky all morning, even though he knows that he can more than handle himself. He invites Sam out jogging and ends up running ten miles with Sam doggedly chasing after him. He feels so bad about it that he buys him breakfast at a little diner called Jimmy T's, but he ends up stealing half of it, even though he'd gotten his own.

“Man, I don't know what's up with you, but I know it's gotta do with our senior friend, and I think you owe it to me to tell me why after you ended up lapping me sixty times,” Sam says.

“Forty-seven,” Steve corrects, and snickers when Sam punches him in the shoulder. 

“Smart ass,” Sam accuses, but he becomes serious. “I know that you might not want to, but if you need to talk or if you need help with whatever, you come to me, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve says. “Thank you.” Talking about feelings is something that he is still getting used to. He is more comfortable with the “my punching bag is my therapist” philosophy, which Bucky has repeatedly called Steve a hypocrite for whenever he tries to have a discussion with him about his nightmares.

“So what does felching mean?” Steve already knows; Bucky found Urban Dictionary a while ago. It's a ham-fisted topic switch, to be sure, but Sam is too busy spluttering to notice. The meal is much more enjoyable, after that, as Steve asks Sam increasingly innuendo-laden questions until Sam figures out that he's fucking with him. Being Captain America is _fun_ , sometimes. 

–

When Steve returns, the Winter Soldier is waiting for him.

He is dressed in the thickest and darkest of Bucky's clothes, despite the sticky summer heat. There's black paint smeared around his eyes again, and Steve has a sudden mental image of the Winter Soldier browsing in the cosmetics area of a convenience store and terrorizing the employees. He's seated at the kitchen table, with the largest of Steve's kitchen knives on the table. Steve's shield is placed across from him. 

Steve smiles reflexively when he sees him, even though it clearly isn't Bucky. Dmitri's face doesn't change, but his eyes sharpen. He inclines his head toward the other chair, gaze fixed on him. Steve sits down with the shield firmly in his grasp, feeling faintly ridiculous. This kitchen table has seen more standoffs than Clint Eastwood, at this point.

“So I'm guessing you wanna talk?”

“Why does the Other feel so strongly about you?” Dmitri queries.

“The 'Other?'”

“James Buchanan Barnes, the one whom this body originally belonged to.”

“It still belongs to him,” Steve bites out.

Dmitri doesn't bother to respond. Steve has a feeling that he'd roll his eyes, if that was something robotic super assassins did.

“He feels strongly about me because we're best friends. We've known each other since childhood,” Steve says, once it becomes clear that Dmitri will not rise to the bait.

Dmitri somehow manages to project the feeling of cocking his head without actually doing so. It's surprisingly endearing. “Your bond with him was the first thing that broke through the conditioning in almost seventy years. Mere 'friendship' is not accurate.”

“We're like brothers,” Steve says defensively. “He's the person I care most about in the world.”

“Do you care about him because he is the only survivor from your time?”

“I suppose that's a reason, but I've always – how do you know this stuff, anyway?” Steve asks suspiciously.

“You're my mission,” Dmitri states. Before Steve can ask what that's supposed to mean, he asks, “Are you and Barnes lovers?”

Steve starts, and flushes to the roots of his hair. “N-no!”

“Are you lying? Romantic relationships between men are widely accepted in this day in age.”

“Yes, I'm aware,” Steve snaps. Very aware. It's something that he has a vested interest in. “But Bucky's not like that.”

For the first time, Dmitri uses his facial muscles. He quirks a brow and actually does tilt his head this time, and says, “Barnes has been – ” His voice cuts off and he does a full-body twitch, and suddenly he's Bucky again. His eyes are wide and panicked, and he's panting. He looks like a cornered raccoon.

“Bucky?” Steve asks, startled.

“OhhiSteveguesshistimewasupIgottagotakeashowerwon'tbelong,” Bucky trills, and flees. Steve shakes his head, bewildered but resigned, and decides to kill time by watching television serial called _Keeping Up With the Kardashians_ that Natasha told him was a masterpiece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song they sing is the Louis Armstrong version of _I'm In the Mood for Love_. Can anyone guess where Dmitri goes when he takes over? First person who figures it out gets to choose who comes on to Steeb first because I'm a piece of shit who is mostly making this up as I go along. :D
> 
> I have school in four hours I'm so fucked.


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky reemerges only after Steve learns all about Khloe's latest diet fad and Kim's postpartum fashion. He isn't really sure if this show is meant to be a parody or not.

“What the hell are you watching?” Bucky asks, dropping down beside him. His hair is damp and tousled. The Kardashians are arguing about breast implants. Steve doesn't know what those are, but he has a decent idea.

“Well, Nat said – ”

“Say no more,” Bucky says. He doesn't know her personally, but he's asked enough questions and Steve's told enough stories for that to stop mattering. “Let's watch something else, or my brains're gonna leak out my ears.”

They're settling into a show about a little girl named Honey Boo Boo that's even worse than the first one when Bucky speaks again.

“What exactly happened, when he came out?”

Steve's too busy watching them eat cheese balls off the floor to hear him properly. “What?”

Bucky smacks the back of Steve's head to take his eyes off the screen. “I said, what happened when he came out?”

“Nothin' much. He asked about you, mostly. I think he was curious.”

Bucky snorts. “Things like him can't be curious. He's probably trying to figure out a way to take over completely, or somethin'.”

Steve's brow furrows at Bucky's dismissal. “I don't think that was the only reason Dmitri was asking questions – ”

“ _Dmitri?_ You _named_ him?” Bucky asks incredulously.

“He named himself!” Steve says, flushing.

“He isn't a kitten you found on the street, he's a HYDRA assassin who wants you dead – ”

“He didn't even try to kill me the last two times – ”

“Jesus, Steve, if that's all you need to trust someone – ”

“He hasn't killed anyone else, either!”

“Oh my god,” Bucky groans. He takes Steve's head between his hands and locks eyes with him. “You are not gonna trust that guy, you got me? He's not just muscle, he's a highly trained agent, like that fella who was always writing, from the limeys' Naval Intelligence Division – what was his name again?”

“Ian Fleming,” Steve supplies. 

“Yeah, him. Point is, he's not seeing the error of his ways, or whatever the fuck is going on in that empty skull of yours, he's gaining your trust to get intel or somethin'.”

“Who would he report to? It's not like there's a SHIELD left.”

“Their motto is a hundred heads will rise if you cut off one, right? HYDRA's had years to grow. Who knows how big it's gotten?” 

“You gotta point,” Steve admits. “I should probably make him stop leavin' the apartment, huh?”

“That would be a good idea,” Bucky says. “I get a basic impression of where he is, sometimes, but I usually have no idea what he's doing. Don't you fucking dare risk yourself to stop him, though, got it?” He knocks his forehead against Steve's own for emphasis.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve grumbles, feeling oddly breathless. One of his hands goes to the back of Bucky's neck of its own accord, feeling the soft hairs at his nape. Bucky makes a strange noise, and Steve pulls back like he's been burned. He laughs awkwardly, and Bucky does the same, although it sounds a little strained.

Things are weirdly charged for the rest of the evening, but neither of them want to move from the couch because then the awkwardness would become realer, somehow. They decide to watch a show called _The Last Airbender_ that they both end up enjoying, and it's easy enough for Steve to pretend that his stomach doesn't flip whenever their sides brush. He drifts off to the tune of Sokka screaming about something, and wakes up an hour later draped over Bucky's lap, where he could've sworn he hadn't fallen asleep. When Bucky starts playing with his hair, still cut much shorter than either of them are used to, he decides that sleeping there a little longer couldn't hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is inexcusably late and short and I'm really sorry about that. Life is kicking my ass and I can't find it in me to write as often as I should. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.


	6. Chapter 6

When Steve wakes again, it's to the sound of birdsong, and Dmitri is staring at him from across the room.

“Heya, Dm'tri,” Steve yawns, rubbing at his eyes with his fists. He stretches, groaning, and then Dmitri says:

“I could have killed you.”

Steve tenses. “I suppose you could've.”

“You knew immediately that it was me and yet you still let your guard down,” Dmitri says, studying his face intently. It is not quite a question (the Soldier is good at those), but Steve feels compelled to respond, even though he isn't sure of the reason, himself.

“Well, I . . . I'm kinda a dunce when I'm tired. Plus, if you wanted to kill me, you could've just offed me in my sleep.”

“Perhaps I was just waiting for you to awaken so that we could have a fair fight.”

“You're an assassin,” Steve points out, wondering if the Soldier thinks he's stupid. 

Dmitri's lips tug upwards. It's lightning quick, but it's there, and it puts him off balance.

“So, what can I do for you?” Steve asks (his mother was big on manners, sue him). 

Dmitri frowns. “I . . . want to know things, to understand them. I keep asking questions.” A pause. “This has never been allowed before.”

“That's natural curiosity, buddy. Happens to everyone.”

Dmitri's brow furrows. “What is a ' _buddy_?'”

Steve has to stifle a laugh. He reminds himself that this man is a killer, but he looks so disgruntled with himself for asking yet another question that it's a little hard to remember.

“'Buddy' is a term of endearment, I guess. Or a nickname.”

“So I am . . . dear to you.”

“No! Well, not that I dislike you – wait, yes I do – um. It just sort of . . . slipped out? On accounta you look like my best friend,” Steve babbles.

Dmitri scowls. “You will not speak to me like you speak to the Other. If you wish to 'nick-name' me, you will call me Dima. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Dmitri keeps glaring. “Dima,” Steve tacks on. The Soldier nods once, and climbs out the kitchen window.

Steve sits on the couch, still sleepy and very confused, until he realizes that he just let the Winter Soldier go out again. “Fuck.”

-

Bucky comes back two days later, instead the customary week. The first thing he says to Steve is, “ _Seriously?_ ”

“I'm sorry!” Steve says, cringing at Bucky's “you stupid punk” face. “It got weird, and then he smiled, and then he got mad and told me to call him Dima and he left and I couldn't find him.”

Bucky massages his temples. “It's fine. If anyone knows how slippery the bastard is, it's me.”

Steve grins at him, and says, “Anyway, there's someone who'd love to see you.”

-

They pull up in front of the home on the motorcycle an hour later, Bucky clinging to his torso like a limpet.

“Always hated these things,” he grumbles, slowly disentangling himself.

“No you don't,” Steve teases. “You love riding with me.” He'd heard him whoop with laughter a minute ago.

Bucky turns red, for some reason, and says, “Do _not_.” He turns on his heel and marches up the steps. 

“Do too!” Steve calls, and follows.

The receptionist recognizes him, and gives him a sympathetic smile. “Good thing you're here. She's been asking after you.”

Steve feels a surge of guilt. He hasn't visited since before the SHIELD fiasco; he's been way too preoccupied with Bucky.

He moves quietly down the hall, Bucky at his heels. As soon as they enter, he can tell she's gotten a lot worse.

“Steve! Did Bucky finally drag you in here? It's been a month!”

“'m sorry, Peg. Been busy,” Steve says tenderly, dragging a stool to her bedside. Bucky stands behind him, subdued.

“Oh, Bucky, don't be shy! You were here just yesterday.”

“Well, he's feeling a little off color cause of that pub on Green Lane – ”

“Stop it, Steve, I'm perfectly lucid,” Peggy snaps. “He visited me here in the home just yesterday – didn't you, Bucky?”

Steve looks at his friend, and finds an expression of realization and dread that is mirrored on his own face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christ, this took forever. I write the chapters fairly quickly, but I avoid doing so for months at a time. :/ Sorry about that. Anyway, consider this an early Christmas present!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unforgivably late, I know. I was trying to figure out if I should try to make plot happen via _Agent Carter_ tie ins. As it happens, I am terrible at plot, so I figured I'd stick to what I've got going instead of actually putting a lot of effort into this because I'm scum. Why do you guys even read this. Also go follow my blog (levitatingbiscuits.tumblr.com). 
> 
> This chapter is terrible and too angsty, but I promise your regularly scheduled UST, instead of sad manpain, shall return shortly. I am so, so sorry.

“Peg,” Steve says, “what did Bucky want, when he came here?”

“I – I don't remember,” Peggy says, shifting fretfully. He can tell that she's getting upset. “He was asking questions about SHIELD, and some assassin we used to have trouble with in the. . . in the fifties, I believe.”

“Peggy,” says Bucky, a little awkwardly. Steve remembers with an unexpected stab of sadness that Bucky hasn't talked to Peggy in more than seventy years. “I didn't try to hurt you, did I?”

“No, not all. You were acting rather odd, come to think of it,” Peggy replies. “Didn't say goodbye, or hello. It was very late, too – I didn't know they let visitors in after dark.”

“Did you tell him – tell me anything you shouldn't have?” he presses, and Steve signals for him to stand down as Peggy starts to twist her hands together anxiously. Bucky ignores him. “Did you tell me anything classified?”

“ _No,_ ” Peggy says. “No, I would never! D-did I? I couldn't. . . no, no, never. . .”

Bucky is frozen, watching her as she begins to cry without a clue as to what to do. Steve shoves him away and towards the door.

“Peggy? Peggy, doll, it's just me, it's just Steve. . .” Peggy violently shakes her head, tears scattering down to wet her pillowcase. 

“Stop it, you're dead, you're dead!” she cries, and something twists in his chest. “I'm sorry I couldn't. . . and then even after, when Howard took your blood, I. . . Angie! Where's Angie?!”

An orderly rushes in, no doubt alerted by the commotion. She glares Steve out of the room, and he goes, though it kills him to do it. He stalks past an ashen-faced Bucky and out the building.

Bucky is quiet on the ride back, as is Steve. His friend is curling into himself. Seeing one of their friends like that would be enough to disturb anyone, but Bucky is only just coming to terms with all the time he lost, even if he was conscious inside the Winter Soldier. Seeing the future on a screen is much different than experiencing it firsthand. Steve would know.

When Steve parks his bike, the one who gets off first isn't Bucky, but Dmitri.

“You're out early,” Steve observes, concerned.

Dmitri just blinks at him. He's not one to answer indirect inquiries. Maybe it's leftover programming, or maybe he does it to be a nuisance. Steve suspects a mixture of both.

“What's different this time?”

“He didn't want control anymore,” Dmitri says, and starts walking toward their apartment.

-

Things are quiet for the rest of the day. Dmitri isn't inclined to talk, but he doesn't seem inclined to leave, either – just prowls around the rooms and stares at Steve like a hostile cat. Steve decides twenty minutes in that he can't take this anymore and decides to call up Agent Hill to see if there's any state-sanctioned violence that needs doing.

The media uproar after Captain America was declared a fugitive granted Steve a certain level of autonomy that he would not otherwise have, which is probably why no one has found out about Bucky yet. Apparently having an American icon kneel in the street with a gun to his head was a bad PR move, and paired with the collapse of SHIELD, the federal government is on unsteady footing. While several agencies that go by their three-letter initials duke it out over who gets legal jurisdiction over him, Steve has free reign over what missions he works and for whom. Hill is sort of like his agent, a position she has adapted to with aplomb, a factor of which was no doubt the sheer number and size of the bribes she gets on a daily basis.

“Hill.”

“I need to punch something that'll punch back. Whatcha got?”

“Rough day?”

Steve thinks of Peggy's tear stained face, of Bucky's disappearing act. “You could say that.”

Maria is both tactful enough and uncomfortable enough with emotions to heed the note of warning in his voice. Compared to Sam, Nat, Peggy, Bucky, and a number of SHIELD therapists, it's a welcome change. “The CIA wants someone for a covert op in Syria – ”

“I was hoping to stay on this continent.”

“Ah,” she says, and thankfully doesn't ask any questions. “Well, the FBI is planning a raid in Baltimore. Can you get there by tonight?”

“Sure, that's great,” says Steve, tells her goodbye, and hangs up before she can actually brief him.

He packs an overnight bag – he likes traveling light, and his bike can't carry much – and heads for the door. Dmitri abruptly materializes.

“Oh, good. I'm gonna be away for a little while. There's enough food in the fridge to last you with me gone. Don't go out.” Dmitri is silent. “Okay, don't get caught,” Steve amends.

“Where are you going?”

“Maryland.”

“Why?”

“I don't have time for this, Winter Soldier,” Steve snaps. Dmitri frowns, displeased with him. “I'll be back before you know it.”

He brushes past him. The Soldier makes no move to stop him.

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been on a bit of a writing binge lately. Inspired by a kink meme prompt I can't find anymore.
> 
> Quick headcanon: the boys revert to their childhood vernacular while alone together or absorbed in one another. <3 They are such cute little shits.


End file.
